


Eyes wide shut

by bioloyg



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, First Time, Kinktober, Love Confessions, M/M, PWP, Pining, UST, Winter Falcon, mentions of sparring, that is resolved eventually I'm a liar, you guys get the point tags mean nothing lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 19:29:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8813404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioloyg/pseuds/bioloyg
Summary: "Maybe it’s because Bucky wants to be touched by Sam in any way possible. Or… maybe it’s because this is as close as their bodies will ever get to moving in synchrony, a sweaty push and pull."~This was a prompt fill for kinktober that I'm putting up on AO3 for my lovely readers.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prettylittlementirosa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettylittlementirosa/gifts).



> 18\. Desperation
> 
> This was a prompt fill for [@bisexualbcky](http://bisexualbcky.tumblr.com) from "kinktober." It was popular enough and long enough that I decided I'd slap it on AO3, plus some of y'all asked so HERE IT IS!

Bucky holds himself up like a plank until his right arm feels like it’s on fire, until his core is screaming, until his legs start to quiver. Still it’s not enough. He tries the treadmill at the highest setting, and when that begins to feel like a light jog he takes to the track with his music on full blast and sprints until his lungs feel like they’re burning from the inside out. But not even that is enough to distract him from the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The _hunger_.

All Bucky can see when he closes his eyes is the way Sam was hovering over him after their sparring match, that stupid smirk on Sam’s face, how his chest was heaving, and the way his skin glistened as light hit every bead of sweat. It’s no better when Bucky opens his eyes and stares up at the ceiling of the gym either. Every little thought swimming in his mind has Sam wrapped around it just the way Bucky wants Sam wrapped around him, tight and unrelenting.

Bucky sits up and the thought of Sam in his lap flashes before him. He showers and imagines Sam is pressed up behind him, imagines the barest hint of lips on the back of his neck. He takes himself in hand and begs for Sam to let him finish, for Sam to kiss him, hold him, _anything._

Bucky is desperate for release, practically aching for someone to touch him. Even just a simple embrace. His hand isn’t the same, and his imagination can’t compare to the reality of making love to Sam. He knows this.

Knows he should trade out the fantasies of rocking up against Sam in their imaginary shared bedroom for the fantasy of Sam riding him into a motel bed, pulling his hair, and scratching his back. Or maybe he should just accept that Sam is unattainable.

_Sigh._

He knows this, too.

~

It happens again.

Bucky isn’t sure why he tortures himself this way. Maybe it’s because no one else fights him like Sam does, with every fiber of his being and a playful glint in his eyes. Maybe it’s because Bucky wants to be touched by Sam in any way possible. Or… maybe it’s because this is as close as their bodies will ever get to moving in synchrony, a sweaty push and pull.

Bucky swears he was giving it his all. He counters Sam’s punches, and Sam counters and dodges his. But somewhere along the line Bucky loses sight of their trajectory and he ends up flat against the mat on the floor again, just like he did last week. Only this time he drags Sam down with him.

There’s a moment were the two of them get their bearings about them. An agonizingly long moment where Sam is pressed up against Bucky from hip to toe. Bucky prays that Sam doesn’t move in such a way that gives his current state away, how much their sparring _really_  affects him, but it must fall on deaf ears. Figures, after everything else that’s happened to him in life. This is just another grain of rice in the pile.

Sam lifts himself up just enough to look down at Bucky, and the confusion is so plainly written on his face that Bucky can’t look at him for more than a second. He pushes Sam off of him without warning and ignores the following, “ _Oof.”_

He only makes it into the hallway leading to the stairwell before Sam is on him. “Where are you going?” he asks. “And what the hell was that about?”

Bucky tenses, but keeps walking, and he doesn’t dare look back. “Nowhere, and nothing.”

Sam scoffs and jogs ahead, grabs Bucky by his right arm to slow him. “Are you really running from me because I got the jump on you? Because if so, I expected better.”

“Tss, _no,_ ” Bucky says, and he shrugs Sam’s hand off. The less they touch the better. Sure, Bucky _was_ surprised the first time Sam managed to pin him, but this time Bucky knows it was because his mind was elsewhere. He was sloppy.

One look into Sam’s deep brown eyes had Bucky’s mind spiraling into the gutter, and as soon as Sam’s first hit landed all Bucky could think about was the contrast between it and how gentle Sam could be with him if only they -

Bucky makes a distressed noise and tears his eyes from Sam’s shortly before walking away again. When Sam asks him what the hell is going on, Bucky says, “I’m late for a meeting.”

“ _What_ meeting? We’re in an underground facility in _Canada_. There are only three of us.”

“Fine,” Bucky says, raising his voice so that Sam can hear back where Bucky left him. “I’m leaving because I have a date.”

He thinks he hears Sam say, “Oh.”

~

The itch under Bucky’s skin refuses to subside. Nothing will cure it, that much seems certain, but for a while Bucky could soothe it himself. He could dream up Sam’s touch and his voice and pretend that maybe, for just one night, Sam would touch him in all the ways he wanted. But now it’s not enough, and Bucky feels like he might vibrate out of his skin if he doesn’t do something about it. 

What _can_ he do; tell Sam? No… No that’s definitely not an option. He, Steve, and Sam have been living in a delicate equilibrium for the past five months. They don’t get out much because of the warrants (and bounties) for their arrest, so the atmosphere can be strained sometimes, even when someone like Natasha or Bruce visits. Bucky can’t risk that balance all because he wants Sam to kiss him. 

Ugh, he wishes the tension would just disperse already. Obviously it hasn’t (and probably won’t), so it’s lead him to become a little… snippy.

“What crawled up your ass?” Sam asks with no shortage of irritation. “I just wanted to know if you could turn the music down. I can hear it in my room and I’m trying to relax.”

“So am I,” Bucky replies, short.

Sam narrows his eyes, crosses his arms, and says, “Do you think you could do that with _headphones_?”

“No.”

“Why are you being an asshole for no reason right now?” Sam asks. He raises his eyebrows to further emphasize the question.

Bucky sits up and turns off the music so he can think. “I’m an asshole for listening to music? How does that make any sense?”

“No you’re an asshole because you’ve been snapping at me _all_ week. I try to watch TV with you and you leave the living room entirely, I asked you to spar yesterday and you told me there were dummies and that you weren’t the only one here that was capable of fighting. Is there something you want to tell me? Something you’re mad at me for?”

It’s both too early and too late for this at the same time in that there will never be a good time to deal with whatever the hell this is. Bucky rolls his eyes and brushes his right hand down his face. “Sam can you just leave it alone? For today at the very least. I’m not in the mood.”

Sam’s face falls, but it’s not sad. Something else. His mouth thins into a straight line and he sighs before saying, “No, you know what, just keep doing what you’re doing and I’ll keep doing what _I’m_ doing.”

When Sam slams the door Bucky knows he fucked up. He fucked up the day he decided he should come to Canada with Sam and Steve instead of staying in cryo in Wakanda, but he’s overstayed his welcome in enough places to know he should’ve left.

With a sigh, Bucky slides off the side of his bed and brings himself to go knock on Sam’s door. Predictably, he gets a very venomous, “ _ **What**_?”

“Can I come in?” Bucky asks tiredly.

“Are you done being a dick?”

Bucky’s lips quirk up at the corners. “If I said yes you’d tell me I was lying.”

Sam opens the door with a frown. “Because you would be.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, and his gaze skips course for a moment falling to Sam’s lips. He looks away and clenches his jaw.

“See, that right there. What the hell is _that_?”

“What’s _what_?” Bucky asks as his eyebrows fall in confusion.

Sam lets out a short huff and says, “You can’t even look at me for more than one minute, and even when you do it’s like you’re disgusted by something.”

Bucky’s mouth falls open just the slightest bit, but he doesn’t have a response to that other than the grimace on his face. He didn’t realize it was so obvious.

“If you don’t like living with me just say that so I’ll stop wasting my time.”

“That’s not it,” Bucky says quickly.

Sam lifts one eyebrow. “Then what _is_?”

“I -” Bucky looks at Sam and he sees himself pulling Sam in for a kiss, he sees Sam’s arms wrapped around him, them in bed, Sam laughing as they kiss, he - he lets out a noise of frustration and says, “It’s complicated, okay? It’s not you it’s - it’s me.”

“Bucky, that is one of the oldest lines there is. Don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m _**not**_ ,” he replies angrily, and of course Sam’s face closes off again.

Sam takes a deep breath and wets his lips. “Look, I don’t have time for all this, so you can either explain why you’re upset, or you can go brood in your room with the music turned up. Your choice. But don’t snap at me.”

Bucky groans and lets out a deep breath all at once. “Fine, it _is_ you.”

Sam looks taken aback, angry, and upset all in the space of three seconds. “What the hell did I do to you?”

“ _Nothing_.”

“Then what the fuck is your problem?”

Bucky clenches his teeth, a last ditch attempt to stay the words on his lips, but they all come rushing out at once. “ _YOU_. God damn it, _you_  are the problem. I can’t fucking think without you working your way into my head. You’ve been there for years now, and it’s worse now that we live together. Every other thought is you, and I wish you’d just **leave**.”

“Fuck you,” Sam says, hurt. “You are so fucking -”

Bucky waves his hand. “No - I’m not. Not _literally_. Jesus. This is hard for me to explain. It’s - I… like you.”

Sam’s mouth falls open and he looks to either side of Bucky like hidden cameras might pop up at any moment. “Uh, excuse me?”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“You like me…”

“Yes.”

“But you want me to leave and you can’t stand to look at me?”

“I - no?”

Sam levels Bucky with a look. “Then?”

Bucky doesn’t know if he can explain this next part face to face. He needs to be able to pretend Sam wasn’t disgusted by his confession later if he does this at all, so he says, “Can you close your door?”

“Bucky what the hell are you -?”

“Sam just fucking close the door so I can explain,” he grumbles as he shoos Sam from the doorway.

Sam does, but as soon as it’s shut he says, “You’re an absolute idiot.”

“And you’re beautiful,” Bucky says on a shaky breath, going for broke.

“Did you just -?”

“Shut up.” Bucky licks his bottom lip and thumps his head against the door three times before saying. “I can’t stop thinking about you. At first it was normal things like wondering how your day was, or thinking about whether or not you like cream in your coffee, but then it… The dynamic changed. Maybe not for you, but for me it did.”

There’s a moment of silence before Sam responds. “What are you trying to say?”

Bucky bites his lip so hard he’s sure there will be a blood bruise on the inside. “I want you, and it’s - scary. _And_ confusing. But mostly scary…” Only because it’s been so long since he’s wanted someone this way, someone _important_.

The doorknob turns but Bucky grabs it and holds, panicking slightly. “Wait, I - I’m sorry for making this awkward. I didn’t mean to.”

The door opens despite his tight hold and on the other side Sam stands tall, his eyes hard and scrutinizing, and his posture stiff. Bucky looks down to avoid it all. So much for maintaining the equilibrium.

But then Sam goes and does what he does best: He surprises Bucky, yanks him forward by his shirt collar and crushes their mouths together. It hurts for a second, and Bucky is confused as hell for the next, but Sam’s lips are so warm and _soft_  that it only takes one more for Bucky’s brain to hop back online.

As soon as it does he kisses Sam with all that he’s got. All his pent up energy and lust surges to the surface and in a matter of seconds Bucky is in Sam’s room, the door is shut, and Sam is pressed against it. 

Their first kiss is messy and uncoordinated, the next is wet, and the third is…  _a lot_. Sam’s tongue finds its way into Bucky’s mouth, and then one of them moans, but Bucky can’t be bothered to figure out which of them it was. All he’s focusing on right now is the way Sam tastes and how it’s nothing like what he thought up. That and how Sam’s body fits neatly up against his.

In between a kiss, a breathless Sam says, “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

Bucky captures Sam’s lips again before saying, equally out of breath, “And fuck up the only stable place I’ve had in the past three years?” He kisses Sam once more, firmly, but chaste and lingering and whispers, “I like it here.”

Sam presses his lips together like that’ll trap the sensation. “So instead you were an asshole,” he sums up, though his tone is lighter this time.

Bucky gets his hands on Sam’s thighs and hoists him up against the door, slotting himself between Sam’s legs in the process. He brushes his nose and lips against Sam’s, such a tease, and says, “I was sexually frustrated, there’s a difference.”

Sam’s tongue darts out and traces Bucky’s bottom lip before he leans forward and bites that very same spot. “Not much.”

Bucky hisses, but he leans into it and kisses Sam again. For a while they just rock against one another, kissing and touching one another, getting their fill, then Sam says, “I hope you know I don’t put out on the first date.”

“Good thing I bought you that coffee the other day,” Bucky retorts as he plucks Sam from the wall and walks them over to the bed.

Sam doesn’t seem to have any arguments. In fact, all he does is laugh into their next kiss. The sensation has something warm curling up in the hollow of Bucky’s chest. He tucks that feeling away for later and pulls Sam’s shirt off, but it’s a little hurried on his part so the shirt tears. Sam frowns and tears Bucky’s shirt in retaliation with a coy, “Oops.”

“You think you’re so cute, don’t you?” Bucky says as he jerks Sam’s pants downward.

The force of the movement startles Sam if the look of surprise on his face is anything to go by, but he must enjoy the thrill of it too because he lets Bucky take his boxers off in the same manner. “You’re the one that thinks I’m cute.”

“No, I think you’re sexy.”

“I can be both,” Sam says as he pulls Bucky down by his neck. Rather than kiss Bucky, he uses the positioning to flip their bodies, and situates himself on top. As soon that fact is established he grinds down against Bucky, hard enough to make Bucky groan and wish his sweatpants were the kind with snaps on the side so he could tear them off effortlessly. Regardless of this, it doesn’t take long for Sam to get Bucky undressed.

As soon as the last of his clothing is gone, Bucky takes his sweet time opening Sam up. He starts with one finger, slick and warm, and twists it in and out, curling it every few thrusts just to hear Sam’s breath hitch. At two fingers Sam starts to make noise and Bucky’s practically aching, but still he patiently scissors his fingers inside Sam, working him slowly. If only to make Sam as desperately hot for this as he’s been all week. When Bucky works three fingers into Sam, the world begins to narrow down to the room alone and the sounds Sam makes when Bucky skims his prostate. 

And when Bucky slides into Sam, kisses him fast and hard? Bucky’s vision almost whites at the edges and he has to brace himself on the headboard. One of the wooden planks breaks beneath the strength of his metal hand but neither he nor Sam can be bothered to care. Bucky only cares about the way Sam feels wrapped around him, the flutter in his chest, and the way Sam kisses hard and passionately when he’s on the verge of coming. At one point Bucky pulls Sam up, collects him into his lap, and fucks up into him while they hold onto each other for what feels like dear life. 

Bucky is out of breath, his thighs are burning, and his skin is flushed all over - especially where Sam’s nails have raked over his skin. More than anything, Bucky wants to wake up with every single one of these marks saved on his body, wants Sam to scratch him harder. He wants to feel this for days, and he wants Sam to feel it too. 

That doesn’t seem to be a problem.  
Sam looks just as blissed out as Bucky feels, and when he says, “Harder,” Bucky almost loses himself. the headboard smacks the wall three times before Bucky holds one hand against it as he thrusts into Sam in an effort to stay the movement.

Bucky feels like a shirt that’s being pulled apart by one single string, unraveling slowly. He’s so close, but so is Sam. He just needs Sam to finish first, wants to see that look on Sam’s face when it happens. It doesn’t take much after all of this, just a few carefully timed strokes, a whispered promise, and then Sam freezes. His nails dig into Bucky’s back and his body tenses, but his face goes slack and the pleasure threaded into every facet of it sends Bucky toppling over the edge too. 

Bucky’s hips stutter as Sam clenches around him, and at the last second he kisses Sam through the end of _his_ orgasm, lets the hum of Sam’s moan fill him to the brim.

In the wake of their release, when both of them have cleaned up the mess, though half-assed, Bucky stares up at the ceiling. Sam is wedged beneath his right arm and the clawing need that hung in the pit of his stomach has subsided. It’s still there in some ways, but it’s morphed into something new and remarkably less desperate and insistent.

He looks down at Sam then and guides his face upward for a kiss, something eager but unhurried. It makes Bucky’s heart stutter and his chest warm. Sam kisses like a famous artist might mix paints, practiced and thorough. Bucky can’t say he minds having that kind of attention turned on him, he only hopes he can give it right back to Sam.

With one more kiss, Sam says, “All this because I flipped you onto a mat, huh?”

Bucky considers Sam for a moment and then says, “No, it started when you fell from the sky.”

Sam lets out an amused huff. “You say that like it’s poetic. I kicked your ass across two lanes of traffic.”

Bucky sighs, jokingly wistful, “ _Yeah_.”

“Oh my god.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't already, come talk to me on tumblr [@zamnwilson](http://zamnwilson.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


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